


Birthday Surprises

by niblick_iii



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Karaoke, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-13
Updated: 2008-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niblick_iii/pseuds/niblick_iii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson surprises House on his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters in this and I even more don't own any of the songs.

“So, where are we going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” was the exasperated reply.

Secretly, House was impressed that Wilson had managed to keep this information hidden from him. Hell, he was impressed that Wilson had convinced him to celebrate his birthday at all.

The Volvo pulled into a dingy parking lot behind a grubby old building in a downtown backstreet that House hadn’t been to in _years_. As he got out of the car he peered into the gathering night, trying to work out where Wilson had taken him.

“Where the hell are we?” he called at Wilson’s retreating back. Wilson didn’t reply, just continued walking out of the lot and to the front of the mystery building. House peered round again, then limped after him, deciding that the best way to find out where they were headed was to go there.

House rounded the corner and caught sight of the neon sign of the front of the building flashing the letters B – A – R. Well, a couple of beers with Jimmy was bearable, although House couldn’t for the life of him see why they couldn’t have done this at home. In private. Unfortunately, the logical train of thought as to the _other_ things they could get up to at home was swiftly derailed as he reached the front of the building and saw the rest of the sign.

“A karaoke bar? A _karaoke_ bar?! James Evan Wilson, what the hell kind of drugs were you on when you thought up _this_ idea?!” House yelled. However this was nothing compared to the betrayal that greeted him as he followed Wilson, who had beat a hasty retreat inside. There sitting at a table in the middle of the bar were his minions, sorry, fellows. Chase looked up at that moment and sheepishly waved at his boss, visibly shrinking when House notched his glare up to eleven.

House rounded on Wilson,

“You invited the ducklings? You invited the ducklings to my birthday?! Great, now they’ll think they can socialise with me!”

He looked at Wilson’s guilty expression and got the sinking feeling that this hadn’t been the last of the evening’s surprises. Sure enough, when he turned back to the table, sitting down, drink in hand, was Cuddy and the twins.

“You, you, you,” spluttered House, speechless for once. “I can’t believe you.”

“Come on House, it’ll be fun,” Wilson cajoled.

“In your dreams,” was the muttered reply, but he grudgingly limped towards the table.

“Alcohol plus singing,” Wilson said quietly, leaning towards House, “think of the blackmail material.”

House rolled this interesting thought around his mind. Well, when you put it like that, maybe tonight wouldn’t be such a total loss, especially since Wilson had detoured to the bar and was ordering drinks for them both. As he took his seat between Cuddy and Wilson’s empty seat he realised what had happened. Damn, but that man was getting good at manipulating him. With a mental shrug, House put the thought away and concentrated on the pleasures before him, the double whiskey Wilson had just set in front of him and laughing at his fellow human beings.

After about hour of watching various singers strut their varyingly talented stuff, including one memorable performance of ‘I Will Survive’ that made House shudder just thinking about it; Wilson rose from the table and walked towards the stage.

As the electric guitar of the backing tape started up, he began strutting up and down the stage, doing his best Freddy Mercury impression.

“Wrong band!” yelled House, recognising the song. Wilson only took this as encouragement, camping it up even more as he began to sing the first verse,

_“Tonight I wanna give it all to you,_   
_In the darkness,_   
_There’s so much I wanna do._   
_And tonight I wanna lay it at your feet,_   
_Cos girl, I was made for you,_   
_And girl, you were made for me.”_

House laughed at the choice of song, and was thinking of a suitable heckle to aim, when all snark died on his lips as Wilson stopped pacing the stage and sang the next lines with soulful brown eyes fixed on House.

_“I was made for lovin’ you baby,_   
_You were made for lovin’ me,_   
_And I can’t get enough of you baby,_   
_Can you get enough of me?_   
  
_Tonight I wanna see it in your eyes,_   
_Feel the magic,_   
_There’s something that drives me wild._   
_And tonight we're gonna make it all come true,_   
_Cos girl, you were made for me,_   
_And girl I was made for you._   
  
_I was made for lovin’ you baby,_   
_You were made for lovin’ me,_   
_And I can’t get enough of you baby,_   
_Can you get enough of me?_   
  
_I was made for lovin’ you baby,_   
_You were made for lovin’ me,_   
_And I can give it all to you baby,_   
_Can you give it all to me?”_

House was unable to tear his gaze away until the instrumental began, and Wilson resumed his impression of a rock star peacock, his actions and gestures becoming more ridiculous as the song neared its conclusion.

_“I was made for lovin’ you baby,_   
_You were made for lovin’ me,_   
_And I can’t get enough of you baby,_   
_Can you get enough of me?_

_I was made._   
_You were made._

_I can’t get enough._

_No I can’t get enough._

_I was made for lovin’ you baby,_   
_You were made for lovin’ me,_   
_And I can’t get enough of you baby,_   
_Can you get enough of me?”_

He finished to enthusiastic applause, his performance having been one of the more entertaining ones of the evening. He ducked his head embarrassedly as he returned the table and slid into his seat.

“Aww, Jimmy, I didn’t know you cared,” House said loudly, just in case anyone had noticed his rapt attention just moments before.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Wilson shot back, smiling at Cameron’s shocked gasp, and Foreman’s eye roll, and taking refuge in the fact that everyone would see the whole incident as just another act of “The Amazing House and Wilson Banter Show”, as opposed to what it was, Wilson outing himself and House to their boss and employees. As the rest of the table turned back to the stage to watch the next act, House caught Wilson’s eye and gave him a look of affection mingled with a promise for revenge which was not altogether uncommon in their relationship. The oncologist grimaced slightly, but comforted himself with the thought that at least House’s ‘punishments’ were never _entirely_ unpleasant. His mind was distracted from memories of other times that House had had his vengeance by the sight of Cameron dragging Chase towards the stage.  
Cameron started the duet, singing to Chase with, House thought, a disgustingly mushy expression on her face. 

_“Especially for you_   
_I wanna let you know what I was going through_   
_All the time we were apart I thought of you_   
  
_You were in my heart_   
_My love never changed_   
_I still feel the same”_

Chase took over then, wearing an almost identically idiotic look,

_“Especially for you_   
_I wanna tell you I was feeling that way too_   
_And if dreams were wings, you know_   
_I would have flown to you_   
_To be where you are_   
_No matter how far”_

Turning towards the audience, the atmosphere slightly marred by House’s loud sniggering, they continued in unison,

_“And now that I'm next to you_   
_No more dreaming about tomorrow_   
_Forget the loneliness and the sorrow_

_I've got to say_   
_It's all because of you_   
  
_And now we're back together, together_   
_I wanna show you my heart is oh so true_   
_And all the love I have is_

_Especially for you”_

Thankfully, House’s bladder called him to bathroom then, so he missed the rest of the song, but judging by Cuddy’s hidden smile, and Forman and Wilson’s not-so-hidden smirks when he returned it had continued in much the same vein. As Chase gallantly went to procure a drink for his lady, Wilson leaned in and whispered, “You missed the part when they started singing with their eyes closed,” and laughed a laugh that might have been called derisive from someone without such a reputation as an all round gosh darned nice guy.

Cuddy was the next member of the party to take her turn.

_“What you want,_   
_Baby, I got._   
_What you need,_   
_Do you know I got it?_   
_All I'm askin',_   
_Is for a little respect when you come home._   
_Hey baby, when you get home,_   
_Mister._

_I ain't gonna do you wrong while you're gone._   
_Ain't gonna do you wrong 'cause I don't wanna._   
_All I'm askin',_   
_Is for a little respect when you come home._   
_Baby when you get home._   
_Yeah._   
  
_I'm about to give you all of my money,_   
_And all I'm askin' in return, honey,_   
_Is to give me my profits,_   
_When you get home._   
_Yeah baby,_   
_When you get home._   
_Yeah.”_

House had to admit, though only to himself of course, that Cuddy had surprised him. He wouldn’t have expected her to have the right kind of voice to sing soul. But as she belted out the famous song, she earned House’s grudging respect, the irony of it all not lost on him.

_“Ooo, your kisses,_   
_Sweeter than honey._   
_And guess what?_   
_So is my money._   
_All I want you to do for me,_   
_Is give it to me when you get home._   
_Yeah baby._   
_Whip it to me,_   
_When you get home, now._   
  
_R-E-S-P-E-C-T_   
_Find out what it means to me._   
_R-E-S-P-E-C-T_   
_Take care, TCB._   
  
_Oh._

_A little respect._

_Whoa, babe._   
_A little respect._   
_I get tired._   
_Keep on tryin'._   
_You're runnin' out of foolin',_   
_And I ain't lyin'._   
_Re, re, re, re 'spect,_   
_When you come home.”_

“Come on now, its time for the birthday boy to have go,” said Foreman.

“You haven’t been yet,” countered House, whining.

“Haven’t decided on my song.”

“Fine,” sulkily “I’ll go. But you’re not wriggling out of this.”

Having run the gamut from 6 year old boy to sullen teenager, House made his way to the stage. Besides, now was the perfect time to have his revenge on Wilson.

He stood centre stage, leaning on his cane and growled the song into the mike, his piercing blue eyes boring into Wilson for the entire song.

_“I love the way you look at me,_   
_I feel the pain you place inside,_   
_Lock me up inside your dirty cage,_   
_While I’m alone inside my mind._   
  
_I like to teach you all the rules,_   
_I’d get to see them set in stone,_   
_I like it when you chain me to the bed,_   
_Then your secret’s never shown._   
  
_I need to feel you,_   
_You need to feel me,_   
_I can’t control you,_   
_You’re not the one for me, no._   
_I can’t control you,_   
_You can’t control me,_   
_I need to feel you,_   
_So why’s it involve._   
  
_I love the way you rake my skin,_   
_I feel the hate you place inside._   
_I need to get your voice out of my head,_   
_Cos I’m the guy you’ll never find._

  
_I’m faking all of the rules,_   
_There’s no expressions on your face,_   
_I’m hoping some day you will let me go,_   
_Release me from my dirty cage._   
  
_I need to feel you,_   
_You need to feel me,_   
_I can’t control you,_   
_You’re not the one for me, no._   
_I can’t control you,_   
_You can’t control me,_   
_I need to feel you,_   
_So why’s it involve...you and me._   
  
_I love the way you look at me._   
_I love the way you smack my ass._   
_I love the dirty things you do._   
_I have control of you._

_I love the way you look at me._   
_I love the way you smack my ass._   
_I love the dirty things you do._   
_I have control of you._

_I love the way you look at me._   
_I love the way you smack my ass._   
_I love the dirty things you do._   
_I have control of you._

_I love the way you look at me._   
_I love the way you smack my ass._   
_I love the dirty things you do._   
_I have control of you._

_I need to feel you,_   
_You need to feel me,_   
_I can’t control you,_   
_You’re not the one for me, no._   
_I can’t control you,_   
_You can’t control me,_   
_I need to feel you,_   
_So why’s it involve you and me._   
  
_You’re not the one for me, no._

_You’re not the one for me._

_You’re not the one for me, no._

_You’re not the one for me, no.”_

House couldn’t help laughing at the shocked expressions on the ducklings’ faces as he returned to the table.

“Aww, did I confuse the children?” he chuckled, “Don’t worry, Mommy will explain.” He looked at Wilson, expectantly, but instead of an embarrassed, flustering stutter or a smile and laugh, Wilson just sat there with a mildly worried frown, oblivious to the inquisitive, and in Cuddy’s case, speculative, looks of the rest of the table.

Perhaps to cover the somewhat awkward silence that had descended on the table, Foreman stood up, announcing his intention to sing next.

As the song began, launching into the iconic guitar riff, Foreman gained a few House points for his taste in classic rock, and extra couple for not showboating as he stood there and sung straight down the centre of the room,

_“Well you can Terraplane in the falling rain,_   
_I drive a Rolls Royce 'cos it's good for my voice,_   
_But you won't fool the children of the revolution._   
_No you won't fool the children of the revolution, no, no, no._

_Yeah!_

_But you won't fool the children of the revolution,_   
_No you won't fool the children of the revolution,_

_No you won't fool the children of the revolution,_

_No you won't fool the children of the revolution._

_No way!_

_Well you can bump and grind,_   
_If it’s good for your mind._   
_Well you can twist and shout, let it all hang out,_   
_But you won't fool the children of the revolution._   
_No you won't fool the children of the revolution, no, no, no._   
  
_Well you can Terraplane in the falling rain,_   
_I drive a Rolls Royce 'cos it's good for my voice,_   
_But you won't fool the children of the revolution,_   
_No you won't fool the children of the revolution, no, no, no._

_Yeah!_

_But you won't fool the children of the revolution,_   
_No you won't fool the children of the revolution,_   
_No you won't fool the children of the revolution,_   
_No you won't fool the children of the revolution,_

_No way!_

_Wow!”_

As the applause died away, Foreman picked up his coat saying, “There, I’ve done my penance, now I am going home.”

Foreman leaving seemed to be some kind of signal, as people gradually trickled out of the bar, only a few die hards remaining to sing.

“Just one more,” said House, indicating his empty drink, intending to solve the mystery of James Wilson’s Unusual Reaction before they went home. He was fine until after House had sung ‘Control’. Oh. The idiot must have got the wrong idea. That must be it. How had he known House this long and not picked up the ability to recognise revenge when it was thrust upon him? Well he had, House supposed, but he could be unbelievably dense when it came to relationships. He was _bound_ to have taken the “You’re not the one for me” line the wrong way. That wasn’t the part of the song House had been thinking of when he picked it.

He looked over at the Boy Wonder sitting there staring morosely at his drink and sighed. These were desperate times, and desperate measures were called for. Noticing that the bar had emptied, and the staff were starting to turn off the karaoke equipment, House had an idea. Quickly, well, as quickly as the combination of cane and alcohol would allow he made his way to the stage and had a quiet word with the guy in charge. Directing the bar staff to bring a stool he picked his song and sat centre stage in the deserted bar and waited for his cue.

Wilson looked up as the piano introduction began, startled out of his reverie.

House began singing softly, closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him.

_“I sit and wait,_   
_Does an angel contemplate my fate?_   
_And do they know,_   
_The places where we go,_   
_When we’re grey and old?_   
_´Cos I’ve been told,_   
_That salvation lets their wings unfold._   
_So when I’m lying in my bed,_   
_Thoughts running through my head,_   
_And I feel that love is dead,_   
_I’m loving angels instead._   
  
_And through it all he offers me protection,_   
_A lot of love and affection,_   
_Whether I’m right or wrong,_   
_And down the waterfall,_   
_Wherever it may take me,_   
_I know that life wont break me,_   
_When I come to call,_

_He won’t forsake me,_   
_I’m loving angels instead.”_

 Wilson smiled, noticing the subtle change in the lyrics.  
  
 _“When I’m feeling weak,_  
 _And my pain walks down a one way street,_  
 _I look above,_  
 _And I know I’ll always be blessed with love._  
 _And as the feeling grows,_  
 _He breathes flesh to my bones,_  
 _And when love is dead,_  
 _I’m loving angels instead._  
  
 _And through it all he offers me protection,_  
 _A lot of love and affection,_  
 _Whether I’m right or wrong,_  
 _And down the waterfall,_  
 _Wherever it may take me,_  
 _I know that life wont break me,_  
 _When I come to call,_

_He won’t forsake me,_   
_I’m loving angels instead.”_

House opened his eyes at the instrumental, nodding his head slowly to the music. He stood and sang the final chorus, his eyes never leaving Wilson’s.

_“And through it all he offers me protection,_   
_A lot of love and affection,_   
_Whether I’m right or wrong,_   
_And down the waterfall,_   
_Wherever it may take me,_   
_I know that life wont break me,_   
_When I come to call,_

_He won’t forsake me,_   
_I’m loving angels instead.”_

 He limped slowly off stage, and Wilson came up to him, taking his hand.

“I love you too, Greg.”

As they made their way back to the car, House leaning against Wilson more than was strictly necessary, House thought that this birthday idea maybe wasn’t as bad as he had thought.

**Author's Note:**

> And the songs were:  
> 'I Was Made For Loving You' by Kiss,   
> 'Especially for You' by Kylie Minogue and Jason Donovan  
> 'Respect' by Aretha Franklin  
> 'Control' by Puddle of Mudd  
> 'Children of the Revolution' by T-Rex  
> 'Angels' by Robbie Williams


End file.
